


That Time Jaskier Finally Shut Up

by shuilian



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: A Soupçon of Plot, Accidental Light Bondage, Anal Sex, Bottom Geralt, Boys being clueless, Feelings, Fluff and Angst, Geralt's Canonically Giant Cock, Implied Past Attempted Rape/Non-Con, M/M, Miscommunication, Oral Sex, Past Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Scenting, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Top Jaskier | Dandelion, Topping from the Bottom, everyone is bi, no beta we die like men, ok maybe a little plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:48:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22234039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shuilian/pseuds/shuilian
Summary: Geralt and Jaskier have some failures to communicate and learn new things about each other.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 22
Kudos: 726





	That Time Jaskier Finally Shut Up

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic

They were nearing the outskirts of town. Jaskier's relief was almost palpable. He was exhausted, much the worse for wear. He tugged his slightly rumpled deep blue embroidered jacket down, as if that would negate the fact that they had been traveling for days, sleeping in snatched moments in the woods. As tired as he was, he knew he would have to sing and play when they got to town if he expected any supper.

Geralt nudged Roach to pick up the pace as they passed by the town's brothel. Jaskier glanced over at the low building, seeing one of the women beckoning them. He hurried to keep up, looking askance at Geralt.

"Not stopping, then?" Jaskier asked carefully. Although he had never actually seen Geralt visiting a brothel, he knew of Geralt's reputation. Jaskier wondered if the witcher was still pining over the beautiful but insane sorceress.

Geralt grunted. Since he had last parted - acrimoniously - with Yennefer, he hadn't felt the need to spend time at any brothels. There was something about discovering that kind of connection that had left him feeling more empty than he ever had before.

As Geralt tied up Roach outside the tavern, he realized with a start that perhaps Jaskier had been asking for himself.

"Did _ you _ wish to stop there?" he asked pointedly. Jaskier looked stricken. That was strange.

"No, I…" Jaskier swallowed. "Well, it's not that I don't appreciate their charms." He scratched his head. "I just don't partake since the last time. I had a bit of a close call." His hand twisted nervously at the hem of his blue jacket.

Jaskier was obviously uncomfortable. Beyond that, Geralt smelled the slightest hint of fear. He tried to understand how Jaskier could have encountered a married woman, and by extension, her husband, in a brothel.

"How?" Geralt demanded, one hand still stroking Roach.

"Well, you know what they say about bards," Jaskier said, wiping his face.

Geralt did know what they said about bards. He turned back to Roach, his face tight.

"There was this merchant," Jaskier said, his voice trailing off. "He didn’t believe I was a client..."

Geralt growled.

"Who?" he demanded. Anyone who would lay a hand on the bard...

"No, no, Geralt, it was just a misunderstanding. Nothing happened. I got away." Jaskier said nervously. "It's true, perhaps, that bards perform for coin, but...I don't do _ that _."

Then Geralt heard the slightest whisper, "not by force."

Geralt's eyes widened, but he said nothing in response. He steeled himself for being in a crowd of people again.

The inn was simple with a few rooms above it. Geralt heard the voices of many people. Geralt's eyes needed no adjustment to the dimly lit interior, but Jaskier blinked at first as they entered. He immediately set to charming the crowd, greeting them like old friends and starting up a song as they cheered.

Geralt's eyes swept the room, alert for any hidden dangers. He didn't like crowds. In a n enclosed place like this one, filled with townspeople, he had never before expected anything other than disdain at best. Somehow, Jaskier was overriding Geralt's usual concerns.

Geralt collected an ale and a bowl of stew from the moderately surly innkeeper, carrying them to the farthest table in the back. He ate slowly while Jaskier played and sang to an adoring audience. While Geralt was tired and his entire body ached, they didn't have enough coin for a room, or a bath.

Jaskier began a new song. Geralt liked to listen to the bard more than he would ever admit, but was uncomfortable being the subject of his praise. The jaunty new song was about Geralt's prowess in battle. Of course it was.

The song mercifully ended and Jaskier had started up another when a dark-haired woman carrying a tankard of ale sauntered up to Geralt's table. She seemed a bit too drunk. Her brown eyes took him in, flicking over the battered armor clinging to his body, his long silver hair, and ending at his yellow witcher's eyes. He braced himself for the inevitable insult.

"You're the witcher," she cooed, her mug sloshing as she gestured at him. Geralt said nothing. "It's a pity that you're here with the bard," she said. "I'm...disappointed." With that, she walked away somewhat carefully.

"Hm," Geralt said. It was unusual, but a lot of human behavior confounded him.

Jaskier's song finished at last. He ambled over to the table with a smile on his face and a bowl of stew, jingling some coins.

"There's enough for one room." Jaskier informed him jauntily. "And a bath." Geralt inclined his head to indicate his appreciation. Jaskier chattered incessantly while he ate. Geralt tried to understand why he let the bard accompany him. There was just something about him that made Geralt want to protect him at all costs, but he couldn't understand it at times when Jaskier never, ever seemed to shut up.

The room was modest. There was a tub of steaming water, a cloth, a small table, and one bed with only one blanket to adorn it. Still, it was better than sleeping on the hard ground and rocks in the woods. They had certainly shared worse these past few years.

Later, as Jaskier was massaging Geralt's aching back as he reclined in the bath, Geralt's mind returned to what the woman had said to him.

"Jaskier," he started, "you understand humans."

"I surely do," Jaskier said, as he kneaded Geralt's muscles with his expert calloused hands. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing his powerful forearms as he kneeled behind Geralt.

"A woman downstairs said something puzzling to me," Geralt said. He repeated what the woman had told him. Jaskier's hands abruptly withdrew.

"Oh, no," Jaskier said ruefully. "Oh, dear. Ohhh, dear. I _ am _ sorry."

"What?" Geralt demanded. "Why?" He felt Jaskier shifting behind him.

"Perhaps I oversold with the new song," Jaskier managed, returning his hands to Geralt's back. "I should have practiced it more." 

Now Geralt was even more confused. He replayed the song in his mind, trying to understand what Jaskier was saying. Nothing he had heard jumped out to explain it.

"What?" Geralt asked finally. "I did not hear -"

"Geralt," Jaskier said, grasping Geralt's shoulder to press his other hand harder into a knot, "it's not so much the words as it’s how you sing them. Or...how you look when you sing them."

"Huh?" Geralt growled, then relaxing as he felt the knot being worked out.

"I will practice the song until I look more neutral when performing it. I can only apologize."

"Why?" Geralt was still baffled. Then he felt an almost imperceptible change in the temperature of Jaskier's hands. They definitely felt the slightest bit warmer now.

"It was not my intention to deprive you of female companionship."

"Explain." Geralt was starting to get frustrated. The bard seemed to be speaking in riddles.

"Geralt, that woman thought that you and me were together."

"We were," Geralt said.

Jaskier paused, swallowing.

"No, that is to say...she thought that you liked men."

"I do like men," Geralt said, leaning back more as Jaskier's nimble fingers began to massage a less painful area of his back.

Jaskier huffed, becoming exasperated.

"She thought that you weren't interested in women! Sexually!"

"Well, that she _ was _ mistaken about," Geralt said. Jaskier's hands froze in their ministrations.

He must have misunderstood.

"What's wrong?" Geralt asked, sitting up straighter.

"You like _ men_?" Jaskier asked. His fingers began to move again, somewhat absently.

"Yes. Most are not amenable to it," Geralt said, leaning back again.

"You're not wrong there," Jaskier said quietly. Then in a quieter voice, he asked, "Do you want me to stop touching you?"

"No," Geralt said. He heard Jaskier exhale, so slowly, but the other man remained silent. It was jarring, this silence.

Geralt shrugged out of Jaskier's grip and turned to look at him. Jaskier was kneeling next to the tub, looking down and away. Geralt inhaled deeply. Jaskier smelled the way he usually did, of sandalwood and the oil he used on his lute.

"Look at me," Geralt said. "Are you bothered by something?"

Jaskier lifted his eyes to Geralt's.

"No, I'm just trying to understand."

Geralt took in Jaskier's flushed face, his accelerating heartbeat. Jaskier’s shirt was clinging to his body, rendering it translucent in places.

"Are you unwell?" Geralt asked, standing up to get out of the bath. He ignored the sudden chill on his naked body, concerned only for Jaskier, who stood and backed away slightly.

The bard's eyes flitted down Geralt's body as water sluiced down his muscular frame. Geralt pulled his wet hair back from his face.

"No, I'm not ill," Jaskier gasped out. His eyes were still on Geralt. "I can't believe I just had my hands on that," he whispered.

"What?" Geralt demanded. He nearly flinched. "Do I disgust you? Is that it?"

"No!" Jaskier cried out. "No, of course you don't disgust me!" Then he bit his hand in apparent horror. Looking away again, he picked up the cloth and held it out to Geralt.

Geralt took it and started rubbing his hair. Jaskier's eyes followed and his mouth was strangely quiet, although he was biting his lip.

"Usually you do this for me," Geralt started, but before he could finish his thought, Jaskier had snatched the cloth away and busied himself rubbing it down Geralt's body.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Geralt asked, turning his back toward Jaskier. "You want to touch me, then you don't want to touch me. Now you're silent. Something seems amiss." Geralt sniffed the air again. There was the smell of guttering candles, the faint scent of chamomile in the bathwater, the deep woody smell of the walls of the room, the scent of Jaskier so close to him, but nothing unexpected.

"Geralt, I just don't want to be mistaken about what's happening," Jaskier said, rubbing a little more vigorously than usual down Geralt's back.

"What do you think is happening?" Geralt asked. Then, reconsidering in the weight of Jaskier's uncanny silence, he reconsidered.

"What do you want to be happening?"

Jaskier was silent for a long moment, slowly rubbing the cloth in circles. Just when Geralt started to think he must have been mistaken, that he had ruined everything, Jaskier spoke.

"I want to touch you," Jaskier whispered. There it was, finally - the scent of something else. Desire.

"You _ are _ touching me," Geralt pointed out. He turned back to face Jaskier. He saw Jaskier's eyes looking at his chest, then shooting immediately south of his waist, but Geralt's control was legendary. He didn't want to scare the bard.

"Truly?" Jaskier asked, backing up a few steps and casting the cloth aside. He worked his hands through his hair, then over his face. "Are you seriously going to tell me you don't know what I'm saying?"

Jaskier's heart was pounding. He was shocked at what had come out of his own mouth. He'd said too much. He didn't want to ruin their friendship. Everything else in his life paled in comparison to the time he had spent with Geralt. Could he go back to blithely rubbing chamomile on the White Wolf's bottom while pretending he didn't want to taste him? Would it be that simple?

"Jaskier," Geralt said softly, "look at me." Jaskier pulled his hands away from his face and his blue eyes met Geralt's yellow gaze. Geralt looked almost gentle. "Touch me, if that's what you want," he said in a low voice.

Jaskier stepped forward in a daze, then was momentarily startled by how close he found himself standing to Geralt. Jaskier reached up his hand as if possessed, brushing back Geralt's damp silver hair from his face. Geralt waited, still and silently, but as Jaskier touched him, he leaned into it like a cat. Jaskier's other hand slowly reached up to Geralt's shoulder, then yanked downward.

Their lips met. Geralt grunted as at last he tasted Jaskier. Then he reached for Jaskier, pulling his lithe body closer, deepening the kiss. Blood shot straight to his groin as his tongue explored the bard. Jaskier’s scent was intoxicating. Geralt felt a hard length against his own through the fabric of Jaskier's breeches. Geralt ran his hand downward.

Jaskier broke away suddenly, gasping for breath and stumbling back a few steps.

"Oh gods," Jaskier moaned. "Tell me this isn't a dream."

"It's no dream," Geralt said, taking in Jaskier’s messy hair, his clothing in disarray. "What do you want?" he asked, although he was relatively certain now.

"I want you," Jaskier whispered.

"How?" Geralt asked.

Jaskier's eyes widened. He had dreamed of this moment many times over the years that he had traveled with Geralt, but had never dreamed that Geralt could be so acquiescent.

"On the bed?" Jaskier asked in nearly a squeak. Geralt reached down, swept Jaskier right off his feet, and carried him to the bed. There was the Geralt he knew.

Then Geralt was over him, large hands at his breeches. Jaskier rushed to assist, unlacing them expertly and pulling them down, freeing his cock. He pulled his damp shirt over his head, the last remaining barrier between them dispatched.

Jaskier drank in the sight of Geralt's nude form. He'd seen Geralt's naked body many times, knew it intimately, but never like this. The sight of Geralt's muscular physique and massive erection was breathtaking. Jaskier's eyes traversed all of it, taking in the many scarred plains, the valleys in shadow, down to the cock that was somehow much bigger than he'd expected. It had been impressive even at rest with its head partly concealed, but seeing it now took his breath away. Geralt was like a chiseled work of art. Even his scars were somehow beautiful and perfect. People regarded Geralt as a hulking brute, something to fear, but Jaskier knew that Geralt wasn't a monster at all.

Geralt laid down on his side next to him, gently pulling Jaskier in tight against his muscular body. He pressed his lips to Jaskier's as their cocks met. Jaskier gasped against Geralt's mouth. Geralt reached between them and took both cocks in his strong hand, working up and down.

"See something you like?" Geralt asked, his breath hot at Jaskier's neck.

"Yes, oh gods, yes," Jaskier groaned. He looked down at the heads of their cocks together. He'd never had any complaints about his size, but Geralt was _ huge _. Jaskier wasn't sure if this cock would even fit inside him, assuming that Geralt would even want to do that.

Jaskier realized with a start that Geralt could probably smell him, smell how much he wanted him. He groaned just thinking of how he had been agonizing just a minute ago over saying how he felt. Geralt had to have known. Was he so cautious because he had faced so much rejection?

Jaskier pushed back against Geralt's arm, slipping out of his gentle grasp. Geralt's hands went to the bard's hair as Jaskier kissed down Geralt's scarred body. Finally, he arrived at Geralt's cock. The bard swirled his skilled tongue around the weeping head while his hands caressed Geralt's balls. Geralt gasped as Jaskier took him into his hot little mouth.

Geralt watched as Jaskier bobbed up and down on the huge length of him, taking more of it than Geralt had ever seen anyone do. The bard definitely knew what he was doing, his tongue control incredible. Geralt had been with so many women, but none had worked him so expertly. The few men he'd been with had never tried at all.

As good as it felt, though, Geralt knew what he really wanted.

"Jaskier," Geralt growled after a few moments, "Come here."

Jaskier's lips came off his cock and he moved up, his head close to Geralt's.

"Yes?" he asked, rubbing Geralt's chest. "What do you want? I'll do anything."

"Fuck me," Geralt said.

Jaskier's mouth fell open.

"Really?" he asked after a second had passed. "Have you done that before?"

"Not with a man," Geralt conceded.

Jaskier stared at him. _ Don't think about it, _ he told himself. Now was not the time.

"Well, do you have any -"

But Geralt was already indicating his pack. Jaskier rose from the bed and retrieved it dazedly, trying to convince himself that this was really happening. He ran his tongue over his lips where the taste of Geralt still remained.

He handed the pack to Geralt, who palmed a bottle out and handed it over. Jaskier put the pack back and took a closer look at the little bottle.

"You already had this?" Jaskier asked.

"I like to come prepared," Geralt answered.

Jaskier idly wondered if Geralt was finally showing a sense of humor, but he saw that Geralt's hand was now around his massive cock and the motion was almost hypnotic, drawing him in.

"Oh, right, well," Jaskier said, unstoppering the bottle. It smelled like a light oil. He spilled some out over his hand and started working it over his cock and hands.

Geralt started to turn over onto his front.

"No," Jaskier said.

Geralt froze where he was.

"No, I want to see you. I want to look into your eyes," Jaskier said, spreading the oil.

Geralt rolled back towards him, eyeing him appraisingly. Then he laid down on his back. Jaskier put the bottle aside and slotted his smaller body between Geralt's beefy thighs. He slid his calloused hand across Geralt's ample, magnificent ass, and really he could see why anyone would want to be looking at that, but tonight he wanted something else. Even if this never happened again, he wanted Geralt to remember this.

Jaskier had come by his reputation as the best honestly, but while he'd had deep affection for so many, many people, sometimes even whomever he had been speaking with at the moment, he'd never felt about anyone the way he felt about Geralt.

He bent down and exhaled across the surface of Geralt's cock. Geralt shuddered. Jaskier carefully watched Geralt's face as he worked his finger over the tight hole. The witcher's every reaction was muted, almost imperceptible to most, but Jaskier could read him so well that his body was like just another instrument Jaskier could master.

Jaskier tongued Geralt's balls and received a grunt in response. He worked a finger inside the tight ring and started to move it in and out. He watched Geralt watching him through heavily lidded eyes. Geralt groaned. Jaskier added a second finger. Geralt's eyes closed at that, but the absence of feedback was too much.

"Look at me," Jaskier said. Geralt's eyes snapped open. He couldn't believe how pliant Geralt was being. Jaskier continued to make eye contact as he added a third finger, eliciting a low groan. Geralt sounded almost frustrated.

"Please," Geralt whispered.

Surely Jaskier had misheard. He hadn't thought that was a word that Geralt would ever say.

"What was that?"

"Please," Geralt groaned out hoarsely. "Please fuck me."

Jaskier froze, trying to maintain his control. He had never been so hard. He slipped his fingers out, trying to think of scales in his head to keep his tenuous grip on himself.

He slid his narrow waist forward and guided his cock to Geralt's hole, easing the head past the ring of muscle and slowly pushing inside while looking at Geralt's face. He saw something there almost like satisfaction.

"Like this?" he asked.

"More." Geralt's voice was gruff.

Jaskier buried himself to the hilt in the witcher's body, whimpering at how tight it was. He continued looking at Geralt as he began to move. He reminded himself that he wasn’t doing this with a woman and adjusted the angle. Geralt's eyes widened.

Jaskier lost himself in the sensation of the witcher's tight muscles around his cock, his rhythm increasing like a crescendo. Jaskier paused as he felt himself getting close. He wasn't with a man, per se, but a witcher. He had personally witnessed Geralt's inhuman stamina in battle but hadn't considered how far it might extend. Geralt was watching him as he considered.

"Touch yourself," Jaskier said at last, holding his breath for Geralt's reaction. Geralt's cock jumped against him. Well, that was interesting. Jaskier began to move again.

Geralt shifted his substantial shoulders and reached between them. Jaskier's eyes followed the motion down, taking in Geralt's scarred hand on his massive cock, thumb rolling over the head, as he began to pump it. Jaskier swallowed. That was entirely too distracting. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on not letting go.

He continued pounding into Geralt, knowing he was going to feel this later but not caring. He felt Geralt's hand speeding up and tried to adjust his pace. Geralt grunted in response. Jaskier opened his eyes and looked deeply into Geralt's yellow gaze while pounding him. Jaskier could see everything in Geralt’s face now.

Maintaining eye contact, Jaskier tried to increase the pressure, slamming into Geralt as hard as he could, even knowing he couldn't last long like this. Geralt's eyes closed and his mouth fell open.

"Come," Jaskier said commandingly, his voice much deeper than usual due to his exertion.

Geralt came with a grunt, flooding Jaskier's stomach with hot bursts. Jaskier felt his release hitting him with one last thrust, coming harder than he ever had in his life.

After he came back to himself, Jaskier withdrew from Geralt's body and collapsed onto his powerful chest. He listened to Geralt's heart beating, so slowly. Geralt's arm wrapped around his waist and his hand reached up to stroke the bard’s hair.

Geralt had been with men before, but none had been so soft with him. None had really seen him and not the thing he was. They had used his body and then discarded him. To be fair, most of the women he had not paid had done the same.

Geralt inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of Jaskier mingled with his own. There was something _ so right _ about his scent being all over the bard. Something else was different, though.

"You're too quiet," Geralt said. He'd wished for Jaskier's silence so many times, had begged whatever gods existed to save him from the bard's incessant ramblings. Now that he had blessed silence, though, it seemed somehow unnatural.

"Geralt," the bard said, "I love you."

"I know," Geralt said. "I love you, too," he whispered.

It was some time before either of them moved.


End file.
